The Feather Boa Book Club
by Tirsh
Summary: Spike and Sadie Braddock chatting each other up. A little Spinnie. A little Jam. A little team. Oodles of fluff and not an ounce of plot to be found anywhere - You've been warned. NEW: Chapter Three updated.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So sometimes you sit down to write one thing (Jam!) and something completely different ends up on the page. I don't know where the heck this even came from but I am pretty sure riveroad is responsible. Not sure if I should blame her for the inordinate amount of time I spend thinking about Spike these days, thank her for pushing me out of my comfort zone, or maybe even apologize to her for making a mess of it all – but it is what it is. And big thanks to Mollylyn for the title and for being such an awesome sounding board!

**Disclaimer :** The show Flashpoint and its characters were created by Mark Ellis and Stephanie Morgenstern and belong to them and its respective networks. I am making no money off this story and it is for entertainment purposes only. However, this particular story is my creation and should not be used without my express written permission.

The Feather Boa Book Club

Spike flopped down on the couch with a petulant huff, prompting a grin from Ed, "What did you do?"

"I didn't _do_ anything." When he merely raised his eyebrows waiting, Spike continued, "Okay it's possible we disagreed about semantics."

"Semantics?" Ed sounded doubtful.

"I said 'helping', she said 'most definitely _not_ helping.' Whatever," even his finger quotes were disgruntled. "I don't understand why your wife is allowed to kick me out of Jules' kitchen," he looked across the room at Sam for back up.

"Don't look at me, man. She's got my wife off her feet in her own kitchen _and_ she's got Jules convinced it was her own idea. I think Sophie might be a witch."

"Cheer up, Spikey," Ed slapped him on the thigh, "You lasted longer than the rest of us. This one over here wasn't even allowed in the kitchen," he winked at Leah.

"Well that's because she tried to kill us all at Thanksgiving."

"Honest mistake," Leah dismissed his concern with an elegant wave of her hand, "I must have read the wrong line."

"Yeah. Because recipes so often call for a quarter _cup_ of cayenne pepper. You didn't think that was weird? At all?"

"You say that like you think I own a cookbook."

"Pfft. Well I own a cookbook. I own lots of cookbooks," he was indignant. "Took two days for my eyes to stop watering. Two days. Next time I…" he trailed off, his momentary pique forgotten as he spotted Sadie Braddock standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Dressed in purple fleece footie pajamas, chestnut curls adorably rumpled and cheeks rosy from sleep, her big blue eyes scanned the room. She did not need to be the offspring of two profilers to spot the easy mark in this crowd. Book tucked under her arm and trailing two feather boas, she made a beeline for her beloved Uncle Spike, sparing just a moment to toss a cheeky grin in her dad's direction as she passed his chair.

"Sadiebug! How was your snooze?"

"Good!" she tossed her book on the couch beside Spike and scrambled up into his lap, making herself right at home. "I brought us a story."

"I see that," Spike glanced behind her at the cover of the book, thrilled to see that they had moved on from the Pinkalicious obsession of the last few weeks. Damn book made him think about cupcakes more than was strictly healthy.

Sadie held out her feather boas, "I only have one pink one," she explained, full of apology.

He grinned, "And pink's your favourite?"

She nodded, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"I'm good with the white," he conceded, leaning forward so she could slip it over his head. "This time. You can't just be sticking me with the white every time," he couldn't resist teasing her.

"It's okay, a'cause Auntie Natalie said she's going to get me another pink one when she comes for my birthday."

"Did she now?"

Sadie nodded enthusiastically, curls bouncing, "Mommy says it's good to have choices but Auntie Natalie says choices means I can choose pink if I want to."

"And what did Daddy say about that?" Spike caught Sam's eye, grinning widely, knowing his buddy's least favourite place to be was stuck between his wife and his sister.

"Daddy said choices mean I can choose a hockey stick too if I want to."

Ed, eavesdropping on their conversation from his seat at the other end of the couch, barked out a laugh, "I bet he did." That was exactly what Sam had said after a couple of drinks at the Goose the week before, except it had come out more like, "I don't care if it's pink or purple or studded in goddamn rhinestones – as long as it's a hockey stick."

Sadie stole a glance at her dad before shaking her head and confiding in Uncle Spike, "Daddy's silly." She looped the pink boa around her own neck, jauntily throwing one end over her shoulder before reaching up to pat Spike on the cheek, one little finger absently poking his dimple. "I think the white one looks really nice with your blue shirt, Uncle Spike." And was it really any wonder he had been completely smitten with her since the day she was born?

He found it ridiculously hard to believe that it had been almost four years since that day at the hospital when Sam had handed over his impossibly tiny bundle of wee perfection. Even though he worked with deadly explosives as a matter of course, he remembered being afraid to hold her and stand up at the same time, as if suddenly his hands and feet could no longer be trusted to work together. Remembered too, wondering briefly if she came with the tiny pink striped hat – if all babies came with hats. He also distinctly recalled being a little annoyed at Winnie when she'd snatched Sadie away insisting that she be allowed to hold her also.

Now, almost 4 years later she was a whip-smart bundle of energy with more confidence and sass than any kid her age had any business having, she still – much to her mother's dismay - favoured pink hats and he, truth be told, really wasn't much better at sharing her affection. And she was, as she had always been, the very best combination of two of his most favourite people.

He picked up the book and held it where they could both look at it, "The Monster at the End of this Book" he read off the cover, "starring the loveable furry old Grover." He watched her, blue eyes bright with anticipation, waiting for him to start. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Me too," she opened the book and looked up at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he grinned at her.

"You!"

"Oh! You want _me_ to read?" he asked, all innocence. "I thought you were going to read me a story."

"Uncle Spike," she scolded him, "I don't know _how_ to read."

"_Still?_" he teased. "Well what have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last?"

"You saw me lasterday, silly!" she giggled. "I know my letters, see?" she turned to the inside front cover where she had painstakingly written her name in blue crayon.

Spike grinned at the charming, haphazard little collection of letters that made up her name; giant S, random capital D, predictable backwards e, the a and the i both perfect. "Well, I suppose that deserves a story," he gave her a proud little squeeze, "Let's see what this Grover character is up to."

Winnie pushed herself off the wall where she had been leaning watching the whole exchange and padded back to the kitchen. Picking up her knife to resume her vegetable chopping duties, she waved it vaguely in Jules' direction, "You two need to put your daughter on a leash. That charm of hers is going to be big trouble for you in a few years."

Sophie laughed, "She putting her moves on your man again?"

Jules just grinned as Winnie nodded, "You might be on to something there. Sam keeps threatening to build a dungeon. Sarge tried to talk him down to maybe just some barbed wire around the yard, but Sam says 'He only has a boy so he doesn't _understand_.'"

"Sam's right," Sophie chimed in, "Even at 7 it's already a whole different ballgame with Izzy than it was with Clark. We may have to medicate Ed if we are all to survive puberty this time around."

"Well I fully refuse to contemplate puberty before I have even finished planning Sadie's 4th birthday party."

"Probably smart," Winnie agreed, grinning.

"More like self preservation. Soph? These potatoes are peeled and ready when you are."

* * *

"And _you _were so scared. I _told _you and _told _you , there was nothing to be afraid of," Spike finished reading and snapped the book shut as Sadie giggled delightedly.

"No, I told _you! _It's just Grover at the end," she held up her hands in an exaggerated shrug. "He's not scary."

"Nope! Hey, where do you think you're going?" he asked, squeezing her a little tighter as she tried to wriggle out of his lap. "What about _my_ story?"

"Uncle Spike," she said in the manner of someone explaining something to a small child, "I still don't know how to read."

"Still?" Spike grinned, playing along. "So tell me something instead."

"Tell you what?"

Spike shrugged, "I don't know. Tell me something I don't know."

Sadie crossed her arms and pursed her lips, thinking hard before blurting, "Mommy has a baby in her tummy."

Spike snorted, "Yeah, I'm aware. She's out to here," he held his hand comically far out in front of his stomach.

"Don't let Jules catch you doing that," Sam warned him, his tone making it clear Spike was on his own if she did.

"Yeah, don't let mommy catch you doing that," Sadie parroted, "You'll get in biiiiggg trouble," she giggled and clasped her hands together, clearly tickled by the idea of Spike in hot water with her mom.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly. Jules only had a few weeks left to go so it wasn't exactly news and she was _almost _out to there, but they were probably right that it wasn't a good idea to remind her. "So you're going to be a big sister soon. What do you think about that?"

"It's a boy."

Spike knew that too but he found the amount of almost 4 year old disgust that she managed to pack into those three little words kind of hilarious. He shrugged, teasing her, "So you'll be a big brother instead. That's okay."

"Uncle Spike!" Most of the time he kind of thought she looked like Sam but when she narrowed her eyes at him like that, she was definitely her mother's daughter.

"What?" he said, all innocence.

"I'm still gonna be a big sister, silly."

"Are you sure?" he looked sideways at her. When she nodded emphatically, he said "So, a baby brother. That's pretty awesome, don't you think?"

"I'd rather have a puppy."

**A/N 2: Still at least one more chapter of this silliness to come. I'd love to know what you think so far! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I am so sorry that it has taken so long to get the second part of this posted - real life has a way of taking over sometimes. Once again, my thanks (and apologies) to riveroad. She is entirely to blame for all of this. And hopefully she doesn't end up regretting encouraging me to write Spinnie. And for those of you who lamented the lack of Jam in the first chapter - believe me I understand completely and I did try to squeeze as much as I could in here for you. Thanks so much for reading this little bit of fluffy nonsense. It picks up right where the last chapter left off.

**Disclaimer :** The show Flashpoint and its characters were created by Mark Ellis and Stephanie Morgenstern and belong to them and its respective networks. I am making no money off this story and it is for entertainment purposes only. However, this particular story is my creation and should not be used without my express written permission.

"I'm still gonna be a big sister, silly."

"Are you sure?" he looked sideways at her. When she nodded emphatically, he said "So, a baby brother. That's pretty awesome, don't you think?"

"I'd rather have a puppy."

While Ed and Leah exchanged grins and Spike bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, Sam rolled his eyes. "My mom got a dog and they brought him down with them a couple of weeks ago. And Sadie is obsessed – we have quite literally heard about nothing else since they left," he said, his long suffering tone totally belied by the indulgent smile he sent his daughter's way.

"Ahhhh," Spike nodded, "It all makes sense now."

Sadie nodded, bouncing excitedly in Spike's lap, "His name is Walter but Grandma says it's okay if we call him Wally because 'who names a dog Walter anyway'. And she 'dopted him because he got kicked out of helper dog school."

"Helper dog school?"

"Yeah, he's super smart and he gots lots of tricks he can do and stuff. He's really neat."

"If he's so smart, why did he get kicked out of school?" Ed wanted to know.

"Grandma says it's because he's too," she paused to think of the word, "Bunctious. And when he's too bunctious he forgets to help. And Grandad says," at this point, she tugged on Spike's feathers, motioning him to lean over. When he was close enough she put her hand up to his ear and whispered something for his ears only.

Spike smothered a laugh and threw a helpless glance at Sam before collecting himself enough to say, "I think maybe he's onto something there but perhaps we shouldn't repeat it?"

"Duh, Uncle Spike," she huffed, "that's why it's a secret."

"Sadie," Sam's voice held a note of warning.

"Sorry, Daddy." she tossed over her shoulder, instantly contrite, "I forgot." Turning to Spike, she explained conspiratorially, "I'm not 'upposed to say 'duh'."

"Probably a good policy," Spike agreed grinning, "It's not really a very nice word."

"Mommy says I'm not 'upposed to say it with my face either," she shrugged, "but I don't know what that means." Spike knew he wasn't "'upposed" to encourage her when she said things like that but he couldn't help it, he burst out laughing while wondering if eye rolling was genetic or learned; figured Sadie was probably doomed either way. "Do you know any secrets, Uncle Spike?"

"I might know one or two," he had a pretty good idea where this was going.

"Tell meeee," she wheedled.

"See, I think maybe you're confused about how this whole secret thing works – if I _tell_ you, it won't be a secret anymore."

"I won't tell anyone. I promissssse."

Spike pretended to ponder whether he could trust her or not before saying, "Okay, if you promise not to tell," he lowered his voice to a dramatic stage whisper, "Spiders have six legs."

"Nooooo," she shook her head, curls bouncing wildly, "That's not a secret. That's a trick."

"A trick?"

"Spiders have eight legs. Six like reglee-ar bugs and then two extra scary ones at the front," she wiggled her index fingers in his face, like two little buggy legs.

"Are you sure?"

"_You _told me that, silly." Torn between annoyed and super proud, clearly he was going to need some new material because this kid never forgot anything, "Tell me a _real _secret."

"Let's see, a real secret… Oh I know one," again he lowered his voice, "Goldfish crackers? Made from real goldfish."

"Really?" he didn't think she would actually believe him for a second but as her face crumpled just a little he realized that maybe he had miscalculated.

"No, honey, I'm just teasing," he backpedaled, tousling her hair in reassurance. And then he wasn't sure what possessed him, except that she still looked like she might cry and he didn't want to end up on Sam's shit list for traumatizing his kid, but he found himself saying, "But I do have a real secret."

"No more tricks?" she asked solemnly.

"No more tricks," this time he leaned in and whispered right in her ear.

"For real?" she pulled back to look at him, blue eyes as wide as saucers.

"For real," he nodded, grinning at her, "But remember, you promised not to tell."

"I won't." This time when she tried to wriggle out of his lap he let her go.

"Where are you off to?"

"To get mommy's phone –she has pictures of Wally on it." And apparently they were back to the dog.

As she passed Sam's chair on the way to the kitchen he reached out with one arm and easily scooped her up into his lap, "Not so fast, Jelly Bean! Were you just going to run off without even saying 'hi' to me?"

She giggled as she kneeled facing him and splayed her little fingers on his cheeks, resting her forehead against his. "Hi Daddy."

"Hi, sweetie." He kissed her on the end of her nose. "What were you and Uncle Spike whispering about over there?"

"I can't tell you! It's a secret. That's why we were whispering." And if there was any doubt about what Jules meant about saying it with her face it was all cleared up now.

"You can tell _me_. You're not supposed to have secrets from daddy," he teased her.

"I'm not 'upposed to tell anyone."

"You know you want to tell me. It's right on the tip of your tongue." When she just shook her head he said, "That's okay, you don't have to _say_ anything. Just stick out your tongue and I'll read it on there."

At that, her eyes got really wide and she clamped her lips together, clearly not wanting to take any chances that he might get a glimpse. Sam chuckled and, deciding to let her off the hook, changed the subject. "Are you going to put some clothes on, 'jama girl?"

"Do I have to?"

"No," he ran his fingers through her hair as he talked, tidying her curls as best he could without a comb, "You don't have to. I just thought you might want to put on something cute for dinner – to go with your boa." He had learned early on with his daughter, who was genetically blessed with a double dose of stubbornness, that he got a lot further asking her if she wanted to do something rather than telling her she had to. And, like her mother, if he could somehow make her believe it was her own idea, even better. Fortunately, unlike Jules, Sadie wasn't quite on to his maneuvering yet so she was easier to convince.

"I can wear my boa at the table?" That wasn't usually allowed so she wanted to be sure.

"Sure. Special occasion," he grinned at her, "Uncle Spike is going to wear his too."

"Thanks Sam." Spike deadpanned.

"Anytime." To Sadie he said, "Should we go find something?"

"Kay," she slid off his lap and waited while he stood up. She tucked her hand in his and continued their conversation, chattering at him all the way up the stairs.

* * *

A while later, Jules made her way up the stairs, following the sounds of laughter and high-pitched squealing. Sometimes with the noise the two of them could generate she would swear she had at least two husbands and three kids. When she found them, Sam had Sadie upside down holding her by the waist, shaking her gently. Spotting an ally, Sadie called out between giggles, "Mommy, help! Daddy's trying to make my secret fall out."

At a pointed look from Jules, Sam sheepishly tipped Sadie back over and settled her on feet, tidying her outfit and patting her on the bum, "Why don't you go see if Uncle Wordy is here yet with the girls."

"Little snitch," he muttered under his breath as Sadie dashed out of the room. When she dashed back in a moment later, Sam was already holding out the boa she had forgotten.

"Thanks Daddy," she grinned as she snatched it out of his hand. "Mommy?"

"Yes, love?"

"Are goldfish crackers made from real goldfish?" she was 90% sure that Uncle Spike had been teasing but sometimes you just had to get confirmation from a trusted source.

Jules smothered a laugh, "No, honey. No real goldfish. You can tell Uncle Spike I said to stop messing with you." And just like that, everything was right in her world again and she skipped out of the room.

"How did you know that one was Spike and not me?" Sam sat down on Sadie's bed and reached for Jules's hand pulling her down onto his lap. As the first person kicked out of the kitchen – by Jules - he felt like he'd barely seen her all day.

She shrugged, "You know better than to screw with her favourite snack."

"How are you two doing? He giving you a hard time today?" Sam rested one hand on her belly while he gently rubbed her lower back with the other.

"We're good. But stop trying to distract me. You should be ashamed of yourself," she grinned referring to the scene she'd walked in on.

"I was testing her resolve."

"Sam! She's three – she doesn't have any resolve."

"She is almost four and clearly you have never tried to make her eat green beans. Our kid is _made_ of resolve."

"Fair point," she conceded, "But this is different. And besides, you can dress it up however you like, but all you really want to know is if that secret is going to cost you fifty bucks or not. Which it totally is."

"You think? Why on earth would he tell Sadie that?"

"Because I think they're planning to tell us all today anyway. Hope you stopped at the ATM on your way home this morning," she teased.

"Don't worry. You'll get your money. IF you're right."

"I'm right." She said with a smug grin before pulling his face to hers for a kiss. "We should get back downstairs to our guests."

"In a minute," he slid his hand along her jaw.

* * *

The guys were standing around the island, nibbling on the appetizers when they returned to the kitchen. "Sam," Raf motioned him over, "Spike's taking action on how long before Sadie gets her puppy. You want in?"

"Nah," Sam shook his head, "Spike and I are on a betting hiatus until he learns how to take his losses like a grownup," he shot him a pointed look.

Spike grinned and shrugged, completely unrepentant. "Whatever. You always get your money. Eventually."

"Boys?" Ed threw his arms around Raf and Spike and stuck his head between them, "Something I should know before I place my bet?"

"Spike takes all the fun out of winning," Sam grumbled, "Instead of just handing over your cash, like a _man_" he glared at Spike, "he emails it to you and makes you answer some dumbass verification question to get it."

"What kind of question?" Raf asked.

"Oh, at first they were sort of fun, I suppose," he admitted grudgingly, "Stuff like 'What Justice League character most resembles you?'"

"That's easy," Ed interrupted grinning, "I'm Batman."

"Yeah you are, buu-ddy" Spike clinked the tip of his beer bottle to Ed's in a mini tribute, prompting an eye roll from Sam.

"But I guess that was too easy because now it's always some bizarre factoid that I have to go on a goddamn google scavenger hunt to find the answer to and in the end it is _always _something I wish I could un-know."

"Knowledge is power, Sam."

"And you're a pain in the ass, Spike," he shot back, his smile taking any sting out of his words, "Jules might want in though - anybody got any money on 'not gonna happen' yet?"

"What do you mean 'not gonna happen'?" Spike asked, "That's it? No discussion?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Just because we didn't feel the need to run it by you doesn't mean we didn't discuss it."

"Come on Sam," he pleaded, "Every kid should have a dog."

"We think a dog is a great idea. Just not right now. It's too much with the new baby coming so soon."

"Pfft." Spike dismissed his concerns, "How much trouble can one tiny little puppy be anyway?"

"Said exactly no one who's ever had one."

"And newborns?" he continued, undaunted, "They eat, they sleep, they poop, they stay where you put them. Hardly any trouble at all."

"Yes," Sam agreed, "they do all of those things in super convenient three hour cycles 24/7. How about I give you a call every time he wakes us up in the middle of the night, right where we put him, and you can see how he's hardly any trouble at all?"

"Well, see that sounds like it would get me in a bit of trouble with my wife," Spike thought that probably wasn't a very good idea, particularly now.

"Damn straight it would," Winnie piped up from where she was setting the table, "Don't even think about it Sam."

"Look," Sam said, "We're not completely opposed to the idea in theory, but in reality it's just not the right time. I'm only going to be able to take a couple of weeks off when the baby is born and then Jules, who, by the way, will have just given birth, will be home alone with a busy four year old and a newborn. I'm not throwing a puppy into that mix."

Spike shrugged, "So why don't you get one of those helper dog flunkies that comes already trained?"

"I wish. Do you have any idea how long my mom was on a waiting list for that dog?"

"Maybe Spike could work his magic to skooch you up the list," Clark suggested, wiggling his fingers like he was typing.

"I'm sure I did not just hear my son, an officer of the _law_, suggest to yet another officer of the _law_, that he should do something illegal," Ed said, only half in jest.

"Only use my powers for good, Ed." Spike assured him.

"See that you do," he said pointedly, as he headed back to the living room to talk to Sarge.

The talk of the dog reminded Sam of Sadie's secret earlier and he nudged Spike, "Hey, what did Sadie say my dad said about the dog?"

"She said, and I quote," he grinned, dimples flashing, "Damn dog reminds me of Natalie, all social flutterby and not an ounce of common sense."

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes, "Remind me to speak to the General about watching his mouth around my little parrot." Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if his dad said things like that in front of her so they would get repeated. "Anyway, he may be a little … excitable but Wally is still pretty awesome. If you ask him the right way, he'll get you a beer. From the fridge."

"Say the word, Sam," Spike wiggled his fingers, "They'll never know I was there."

"What happened to only using your powers for good?"

"Sadie gets a puppy? What's better than that?"

"I don't think that's quite what Ed had in mind."

Spike shrugged. "What Ed doesn't know, won't hurt him. But since you don't have a Wally, how about you get me another beer?"

"How about the fridge is in the same place it always is."

"You speak that way to a guest in your home?" Spike teased.

"Shut up. Since when are you a guest?"

"Dad-dy" Sadie's sing-song little voice scolded him.

"Sorry, sweetie. I forgot."

Spike chuckled, "Let me guess? Not 'upposed to say 'shut up?"

"Something like that," Sam grumbled. Then again, maybe his dad was just an innocent victim of excellent hearing.

* * *

"So," Wordy settled on to the couch, next to Sam, "Pink feather boas?"

"Yep." Sam nodded his head, resigned to his fate as the father of a girl.

"Slippery slope from there to rhinestone tiaras and princess tea parties, my friend," Wordy's tone was sympathetic; the voice of someone who had definitely been there, done that and bought three t-shirts.

"Sadie? Nah." Sam dismissed the idea, "I know it's been a long time since we all worked together but you remember my wife?" Wordy grinned and nodded but still looked doubtful so Sam continued, "Sadie may be a girly girl on the fashion front – and for that we can definitely blame my sister – but in the end, she's still Jules' daughter and she's no princess."

"If you say so."

"I know so. Jules won't even let that Disney crap in the house unless it's one where the 'princess' is kicking ass and taking names. Anyway, when Sadie's not wearing her boas she's hauling them around in the back of her Tonka truck and just yesterday – and if you value Spike's life at all, you won't mention this part to Jules – she was using the white one to haul her beloved Snugglepuppy out from under her blocks because apparently there was a "'splosion" of some sort."

At that Wordy chuckled, "Jules is what, 13, 14 months pregnant? He could probably take her now."

"Not if I hold him down for her," Sam was only half kidding.

* * *

"There you are. They sent me to find you. Dinner's just about ready."

The white feather boa was still hanging around his neck, adorably forgotten, so Winnie grabbed both ends and pulled him to her, "Where's your little girlfriend?" she asked, smiling.

"She threw me over for Wordy the minute he walked through the door," he shook his head in mock dismay, "Can you believe that? I thought we had something special."

"Well everyone's got a little thing for Wordy," she grinned at him, "Probably didn't hurt that he had _all_ the girls with him."

"Probably. Does Izzy live at their house now?" he tucked his thumbs in her belt loops tugging her closer, his fingers brushing her hips.

"Think it was just a sleepover. Sophie had an event, Ed had shift. Don't think she signed a lease or anything."

He flicked a glance at the door behind her, "You okay?"

"Yep," she nodded once, decisively.

"It's about that time of day."

"It is," she agreed, "I thought maybe. For a minute, but nope. So far, so good."

"Maybe we're finally do- " she leaned in and kissed him quickly, effectively shushing him.

"Are you crazy? Don't jinx it."

"Win," he rolled his eyes good naturedly, "You don't seriously think anything I say has any bearing on whether – "

"Do you call a shut out at the end of the first?" she demanded.

"Well no, of course not. But this is completely different," he reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

"It's not really. That's exactly where we are, Spike. End of the first. And besides," she yanked lightly on the ends of the boa to make her point, "Since no part of _we _has _you_ hanging your head over the toilet every afternoon, I'll be making the rules here."

"Ahh…'kay," he raised his eyebrows, tried not to smile and failed miserably.

"Don't even," she shook her head at him.

"I didn't say anything," he protested, laughing now.

"You were thinking it," she accused, grinning back at him, in spite of herself, "You might as well just say it. You know you're dying to."

"It's just you kind of … uh… suck at rules, Win."

"Shut up," she grumbled. She _used_ to be good at rules. She used to be excellent at rules, made them and lived by them and everything. She also seemed to recall having things like boundaries. And balance. And order. She'd had order in her life before he started hanging around her desk with his ridiculous jokes and his stupid smile, waving his rude dimples around without any regard whatsoever for the effect they might be having on people. The thing was, now she couldn't remember a single reason why she had ever thought any of those things were so important or even worth having at all. "Speaking of errors in judgement…"

"Were we?" he looked completely baffled.

"We are now. You told Sadie?"

"I did," at least he looked appropriately sheepish.

"Spike," she admonished, exasperated. "What were you thinking? She's three – you can't possibly expect her to keep a secret like that."

"Well, she would be the first to point out that she is _almost _four, but we're going to tell everyone today anyway."

"Scared we might chicken out again?"

"Maybe a little bit," he admitted, grinning. "She's like a little insurance policy."

"Not much chance of that now," she sighed, "I think the ladies are onto us anyway."

"Yeah?" he raised his eyebrows, "How do you figure?"

"Jules was muttering something about victory and the cute shoes she's going to buy with Sam's money when her feet aren't swollen anymore. And Sophie keeps pushing a cup of ginger tea in my direction and saying 'It helps.'"

"And does it?" he asked, already planning a stop on the way home to pick some up if it provided even the tiniest bit of relief from the nausea.

"Is Sophie ever wrong? About anything?"

"Kicked me out of the kitchen earlier. That was wrong," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes and laughed, "Don't get all huffy. You totally had that coming."

"A friendly and helpful exchange of ideas – that's all," he defended himself.

"Spike. Telling her the Italian way to do everything is neither friendly, nor helpful, nor technically, an exchange of any kind. The woman's a professional caterer for god's sake."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," he pouted, taking the boa from around his own neck and looping it around hers pulling her in for a kiss.

"You brought it up," she reminded him, giggling against his mouth.

"Hey?" She wrapped the end of the boa around her fist and tugged on it with her other hand, as if testing its strength, "You think Sadie would let you borrow this?" she smiled suggestively.

"Yeah?" he raised his eyebrows, grinning widely.

She shrugged, "Maybe."

"I think you might be a little depraved – lucky for you I like that in a person."

"Like it? I thought that was why you asked me to marry you?"

He laughed, "I'm not completely uncivilized. It wasn't the only reason."

"Well no, you were also drunk," she teased.

He rolled his eyes, "I was NOT drunk. I had perhaps had a little too much sun," he defended himself, "but I was not drunk."

"Fine. You weren't drunk," she grinned, "Maybe just a little overserved."

"Win-nie! Stop," he whined, "You want a list of reasons? Because I'll make a list - but we should go back out to the kitchen so I can make it in front of everybody."

"Settle down there, Spikey," she leaned in to give him a quick kiss, "No need to go overboard; I'm just teasing." It's possible she just liked watching him get all puffed up. "So, you'll talk to Sadie?" she joked. "About the boas?"

He snorted, "Absolutely not - because that is a conversation I am having with her dad NEVER. But I'll be more than happy to get you some of your own."

"Maybe you can ask Natalie where you can pick some up?" Honestly sometimes she just couldn't help herself.

"Hilarious." He deadpanned. "You're hilarious. Totally putting that on my list."

* * *

Jules was hanging out in the living room talking to Sarge and Ed when Sadie came looking for her. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

"We're going to eat soon, honey."

"But I'm hungry _now. _There's snacks on the counter, can I have some?"

"There's a veggie platter – why don't you make yourself a little plate, and I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay," she poked a little bump on Jules' tummy. "Look Mommy, Nate's sticking his foot out again."

"I see that," She grinned at her daughter before she took off for the kitchen.

Sarge raised his eyebrows, "Baby has a name?"

"No. Well not really," Jules explained, "When we found out he was a boy, we were just tossing some suggestions around and Sadie latched onto Nate and won't let go. But it's not a done deal or anything – we want to meet him first. Although, you know Sadie – she's so stubborn she may just call him Nate regardless of what we decide." Luckily Nathan was one of their favourites as well.

"It's a good name," Ed smiled, "I mean, it's no Edward, but it's a good name. Nate Braddock. That's a good solid cop name."

"Bite your tongue, Edward." Jules put her hand on his knee and used it to lever herself off the couch so she could go help Sadie in the kitchen. "I think we're about ready to eat. You two should start making your way to the table."

Sadie was up on her knees on one of the high bar chairs at the island building a little pile of vegetables on a plate, while everyone was milling about waiting for the okay from Sophie. "Oops, don't want to forget these, Sadiebug," Spike added some cherry tomatoes to her pile.

She picked them up and put them back on the platter. "No thank you," she said emphatically.

"Sadie," Jules scolded picking them back up off the platter and putting them aside.

"But I don't like ponadoes, Mommy."

"I know honey, and you don't have to eat them. But it's not polite to put them back after you've touched them."

"What do you mean, you don't like pon- tomatoes?" Spike sputtered, "That is an affront to your Italian heritage, young lady."

"Spike," Jules said in a long suffering tone, "Once again. She is not actually yours – she has no Italian heritage."

"Honorary Italian heritage. Whatever."

"Furthermore, she liked tomatoes just fine last month and if you don't make it a thing, she'll like them just fine again next month."

"No I won't." Sadie chomped on a carrot as if to make her point.

"Okay, honey," Jules just wanted to stop talking about it before it became a big deal. When Spike looked like he was going to argue, she shot him a warning look and shook her head.

Wordy clapped his hand on Spike's shoulder in reassurance, "When you have one of your own, it will all make sense."

"But Uncle Spike does know," Sadie blurted, "He has a baby in his tummy just like mommy."

When the whole room went silent, Sadie realized what she done and clapped her hand over her mouth and Spike grinned sheepishly, "So… um… that's _almost _what I told her."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **So this was always supposed to be a two-shot and I never intended to write any more for it but apparently there was a little bit left in the tank, an epilogue of sorts. As always riveroad is entirely to blame/thank for my sudden absurd need to indulge in writing Spike and Winnie.

**Disclaimer :** The show Flashpoint and its characters were created by Mark Ellis and Stephanie Morgenstern and belong to them and its respective networks. I am making no money off this story and it is for entertainment purposes only. However, this particular story is my creation and should not be used without my express written permission.

Winnie flopped over on her back beside him, thoroughly spent, breathing heavily. When she could speak she said, "Well, that was … as advertised. I am utterly without sense. Or coherent thought. Or bones, possibly."

"Should probably shower."

"Yeah." She agreed, but neither of them made a move to get up.

"Win?"

""Hmm?"

"I've been thinking."

"Well for god's sake, do it over there. And keep your hands to yourself," she added as an afterthought.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked in mock offense, rolling over on his side, propping his head up with his hand so he could look at her.

"That's what you said…" twenty minutes ago? An hour? Yesterday? She realized she had no idea and turning her head to look at the clock seemed way too much like work, "You know, before. When I was just minding my own business on the couch reading."

Yeah, "reading" he thought - with her hair all pulled up on top of her head and her new pregnancy compelled reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She'd had her pen resting against her bottom lip, poised to make notes in her pregnancy bible as she called the 'What to Expect' book – looking all naughty librarian, completely oblivious to him. And frankly she should know better by now. He'd done the only thing he could do and… "Worked out pretty well for you."

"And for you. So you can stop looking so proud of yourself any time now," she said playfully, without opening her eyes.

"You're not even looking at me," he accused, grinning.

"I can _hear_ you smirking."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," he laughed. Okay. Possibly he was smirking but who could blame him? She was so gorgeous, all flushed and delightfully mussed by his hand _and_ he was pretty sure he was fairly directly responsible for the awesomeness that was going on with her breasts lately too, but he wasn't stupid enough to take credit for that. Out loud. "As I was saying… I've been thinking. We should get a dog."

This time she did turn her head and open her eyes so she could roll them at him, "Please tell me this isn't about playing the hero for Sadie."

"It's not," he protested. Not entirely anyway. Fringe benefit maybe.

"Spike, we work ridiculous hours."

"Lots of people with jobs have dogs, Win."

Yeah that had sounded like a pretty lame argument even to her. Honestly why couldn't they have these discussions in the morning when she had her wits about her? Weren't men supposed to be hardwired to fall asleep after sex? Why did hers think it was a solid time to make major life decisions? She was reasonably sure this was how he'd convinced her it was time to have a baby too.

"And anyway," he continued, "Pretty soon you'll be home more."

"Yep. Just sitting at home twiddling my thumbs and eating bon bons," she replied sarcastically, "Oh no wait – that doesn't sound quite right. Spike, I'll be home with an infant. Did you hear nothing that Sam said about how much trouble newborns are?"

"I heard everything he said," he insisted, "I only pretend I'm not listening to Sam; it keeps him humble," he added as an aside. "That's why I think now is the perfect time. When she just looked at him like he'd lost all of his marbles, he kept going, "We have six months give or take. That's totally enough time to get him trained and housebroken before the baby comes."

Possibly he had a point. "Stop touching my hair." She waved his hand away. Like she wasn't having enough trouble trying to focus right now?

"We even have time to take him to obedience school if you want. Teach him not to chew on your feather boas," he winked at her.

"Do I have time to send my husband to obedience school?" she asked only half joking.

"Maybe _but _sadly for you, you're the one who nixed the word obey in our vows," he grinned and continued, undaunted, "And if we wait, we miss our window. Because as I understand it, babies don't get any less high maintenance as they start crawling and walking and such, and then before we know it you're back at work, and then pretty soon we're talking about number two…" he trailed off as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Too far?"

She just shook her head in disbelief. Only he would have the nerve to bring up the idea of baby number two _while _number one was still turning her inside out every afternoon _and _he was trying to convince her to get a puppy. "You're a brat."

"And just think what a great trial run this will be for us at this whole parenthood thing," he wheedled.

"And if we fail? Little late to change our minds on the 'whole parenthood thing' if it turns out we suck at it."

"So we'll make all our mistakes with the dog," he shrugged. "Or maybe we'll be naturals. Come on Winnie. Every kid should have a dog. I had a dog growing up. You had two. Don't you want our baby to have a dog?"

"Oh shut up! And stop looking at me like that," she shoved lightly at his shoulder, pushing him over onto his back, "I'll think about it."

Deciding to let it go for now he repeated his earlier suggestion, "We should probably shower."

"Any chance I can do that without leaving this bed?"

He snorted, "Not much chance, no."

"Then it might just have to wait until morning. I'm exhausted."

"Well I'm going to start the water," he made his way to the ensuite.

"So, hypothetically speaking…" he heard her call from the bedroom and grinned as he reached for the tap, knowing he'd won. She never moved on to hypotheticals until she'd already made up her mind.

He flipped the shower lever and leaned over to look back through the doorway, "Yeah?'

"Hypothetically, if we did do this, what kind of dog are you thinking?"

"I want a real dog."

"Yes. Presumably we are not having this whole discussion about a stuffed animal," she summoned the energy to sit up and swing her legs over the edge of the bed. Now that the water was running she needed to go to the bathroom anyway. How something the size of a plum could make her need to pee so much was frankly beyond her.

"Ha ha. Very funny. I mean like a big dog, one with some substance. Not one of those yappy little runaway bedroom slipper excuses for a dog."

"Hypothetically I think big dogs are generally better with small children anyway," she agreed as he offered her his hands and tugged her to her feet.

"You go ahead. I'll make a new bed," he offered, knowing one of her most favourite things in the world was to crawl into a fresh bed after a long shower.

"Now you're just sucking up unnecessarily," she leaned in to give him a quick kiss, "But I'll take it."

A few minutes later, he stepped into the shower with her. When she looked about to protest, he raised his hands in surrender, "Relax. I come in peace." He had a pretty extensive vocabulary – he understood what 'exhausted' meant. He'd also learned in the last couple of months that pregnancy had added another level entirely to the word.

"You'll behave?"

He shrugged, "Mostly. But I need some water too," he stepped closer to her, looping his arms around her waist. "So I can start doing some research? Hypothetically of course," he grinned.

"I suppose," she said grudgingly, "As long as your "research" doesn't cause any trouble for Sam and Jules."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"It means I know how you operate. You'll be all offering to take Sadie for ice cream and oh look it just happens to be right next door to the pet store. Why don't we just pop in and have a look?"

He rolled his eyes. Not that she was entirely wrong. "Online research. Into breeds and stuff." he promised.

"If," she waved her finger at him, "IF we do this, it's got to be a rescue. No breeders or pet stores."

"Oh, we're doing this," he was grinning stupidly now. She'd moved on from hypotheticals to conditions. They were totally getting a puppy.

"And no hacking the helper dog list. For us or for Sadie. You want the dog to get you a beer? You have to train it yourself."

"Cross my heart."

Later, snuggled down together under the duvet, Winnie was almost asleep when Spike nudged her, "Win?"

"Don't tell me you've been thinking again," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"No, just wondering. Do you think you're going to need those reading glasses at work?"

"No. It just seems to be at night when I'm tired. The book says it probably won't get worse throughout my pregnancy and my eyes will probably go back to normal after. Why?"

"Because if you are, we're going to need to discuss contact lenses or I'm going to get fired."

"Say 'good night' Spike."

"Good night Spike. Love you, Win."

"Love you."

**A/N 2: **Thanks so much for reading. And I know at least half of you are thinking "needs more jam" right about now ;) I am working on a jammy epilogue as well - it's just not finished yet. But I'm not going to lie - I am highly motivated by reviews. As always, they make my day!


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